


Soulmarks

by Viking_woman



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU-gust 2020, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fix-It, Implied Sexual Content, Pining, Romance, Solas is in denial, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viking_woman/pseuds/Viking_woman
Summary: Iwyn had given up on finding her soulmate, or having her soulmark show. That didn't mean she didn't hope, but when the sky tore open, the last thing she needed was a mystery of soulmark without a soulmate.Prompt 3 of AU-gust 2020. Find this, and others, on mytumblr
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46
Collections: AUgust 2020





	Soulmarks

Iwyn Lavellan had told herself she’d given up on finding her soulmate. When she was younger, she had, along with everyone else, looked forward to meeting her soulmate. To touch someone, and have a matching soulmark appear, to have them line up, a perfect fit, just like most adult Dalish couples. Not all, though. Some people never found their soulmate, and still found a partner. But along with every other teenager she’d wondered and wished and hoped and dreamed.

When no one appeared, she had taken things into her own hands, and tried to make it work. Despite her mom’s warnings of dismissing traditions (proudly displaying her soulmark, the one which jagged edges fit perfectly with her dad’s), she’d tried to make it work with Haleir.

It hadn’t, and she hadn’t tried to make it work with someone else, and she’d dismissed the idea of finding her soulmate. How many elves were there, and what would be the chance of her meeting her the right one?

Or maybe she still hoped that she’d meet them, that she could still find that one person who would make her soulmark appear, a perfect match.

All that was before she walked into an explosion which tore the sky apart. Before she was taken prisoner, and then was a not-prisoner, and had strange magic in her hand that could close the violent tears of reality, the rifts. Finding someone had slid way down her list of priorities.

But now she had a soulmark, soft green with soft curving swirls on her wrist, and she’d no idea who had made it appear.

With everything that had happened, it could be anyone. She’d been too busy to pay attention. It could be someone brushing against her in the explosion, someone moving her to the prison. A scout she helped. The timid city elf who was there when she woke. Iwyn had no idea if city elves even followed the soulmark tradition. Whoever her soulmate is, they had not announced themselves, were not dead (from the appearance of the mark), and she had no idea who it could be.

* * *

Solas, on the other hand, was painfully aware of when his soulmark appeared. He felt the jolt as soon as he touched the elf Cassandra had taken prisoner, the one who was dying from the magic of the Orb, his Orb, his magic. He had felt the buzz of his soulmark appearing, a subtle and hot magic. He did not have to check that a soulmark which fit his had appeared on her wrist.

It was almost as distressing as the magic from his orb seared into her hand.

Days later, he still hasn’t told her. Solas rubs his thumb over the mark on his wrist. He doesn’t feel anything, unlike what he would if she touched it. It is supposed to be pleasant, or more than pleasant. Intimate.

He doesn’t know. People can go hundreds of years without meeting their soulmate – he had, as a matter of fact, and it makes no sense that a shadow of this world bears his soulmark. Why her? Why now?

He knows soulmarks still appear, he has seen them among the Dalish. But he isn’t sure they understand the significance. The Dalish wear them openly, uncovered. Soulmarks should only be touched by soulmate and should be hidden in public.

Solas finds a strip of cloth he can wrap around his wrist. He loops it once, and then he stares at it again. Once he yearned for the soulmark, young and envious of those who had it, of the intimacy they shared. Before he felt peace in his loneliness, his cause, and his mistakes.

He looks closer at the soulmark, the soft swirls and intricate pattern. It’s almost… Yes, that must be the reason. It could be an echo of the magic of his orb, the magic absorbed by her. No true soulmark, but a mistake, a quirk of magic gone wrong.

He wraps it up. He looks at his arms, and covers his other wrist too. This should cause fewer questions. The sooner he can move on with his plans, the better.

* * *

“Hey,” Iwyn says, casually.

“Greetings, Herald of Andraste,” the scout says, looking down.

Probably not him. She’s supposed to feels something, she thinks, a pull, a knowing. Or maybe not. But she can’t just ask – _Hey, have you got my soulmark, since I appear to have lost my soulmate_. No, that would be laughable, and she has to appear composed to all these people, who suddenly look at her like she is important.

She chats a bit more with the scout, where he is from – a village outside Val Firmen, and how he met Leliana. Then she bids her farewell, and she should go find another elf she hasn’t talked to yet. She knows Minaeve, the researcher, and Willow, the servant, and Thelassian, the recruit, bear no soulmarks.

It’s not like there is too many elves around here, especially ones that could have touched her in the those first hectic days.

It’s still hectic, and she can’t spend all her time looking. There is a Horse Master to find, and rifts to close, and a war to stop – or avoid. She isn’t sure. Iwyn still finds herself on her way to Solas’ little hut to talk with him. She has spent time with him before, but she likes his company. His stories of journeys in the fade are fascinating and strange. Maybe this time he will not have his wrists covered.

* * *

The problem with ignoring his soulmark is that it still is true.

Solas likes Iwyn Lavellan, her company and her questions. He likes watching her fight, all deadly power and grace. He likes her smile, and the light in her green eyes. He likes the warmth of her, sitting next to him at the campsite.

It is terrifying.

He does the best to ignore the joy of her company, the need to feel her naked skin under the palms of his hands. He is helped along by a constant demand on her time, by the burdens thrust upon her by the Inquisition.

By the chaos and strife his actions have brought into her world.

* * *

The Breach is closed, but their victory is short lived.

Soon, Iwyn is fighting again, Haven is burning and overrun. An ancient Tevinter magister, filled with the stench of The Blight, has declared war on the world and on her, personally.

Maybe finding her soulmate is not important when her life is doomed.

* * *

Iwyn is not with them. She is lost, somewhere in the blizzard, delayed trying to save everyone else. He knows she is not dead, not yet. The soulmark shows as much.

But she is out there, alone and lost. If she is not able to find them… if she perishes…

His uneasiness grows. He never matched their soulmarks. He met his soulmate, and he pretended it did not matter.

She does not know, and he did not match their soulmarks.

He is a fool.

He paces in the camp, ignoring the discussions around him, the shoveling of snow and raising of tents. The blizzard whips in his face. Sometimes, soulmates can sense each other, and sometimes over large distances. The connection is different for everyone and he doesn’t know what effect the veil would have on this ancient magic. But maybe, if he’d accepted her, it would have made a difference.

Solas steps further into the blizzard, away from prying eyes. He must work with what he has, and quietly, he slips into the storm as his other self. He’ll find her, and then he will tell her.

* * *

He doesn’t tell her. She lives, and he wants to show her his wrist, and he almost does. But how can he reveal their match, without telling everything? He does not know how she would react to the whole truth about him, or how he could continue his plans. What would be the point of meeting your soulmate, only to lose them again?

He tells her a partial truth about the orb instead, keeping his hands behind his back to prevent him for reaching for her.

He takes her to Skyhold, his ancient fortress. At least he can do that. She will be safe – as safe as she can be in this world – there.

* * *

They’ve been in Skyhold for five days when Iwyn decides it’s time to confront Solas.

Everything is mostly settled. The repairs of the main hall are well underway. Everyone seems to have found a place to settle in, and Cullen has organized the army in the valley below the castle. She has a disturbing report of Grey Warden corruption, and an urgent matter dealing with the court in Orlais. Neither is particular uplifting, and she can’t be distracted by nagging uncertainties anymore.

Iwyn finds Solas in the bottom of the round tower. There is scuffling above, as someone is moving around books, and adding new ones to the library, and she can hear the ravens caw far above where Leliana has made a space for herself and her messengers. Solas is bent over his desk, studying some books and taking notes. He turns to her before she speaks.

“Inquisitor?”

“Call me Iwyn, please,” she says, and her determination grows.

“Iwyn. Can I be of any help?”

“Solas. Why are you ignoring our soulmark?”

She gestures to her wrist, and Solas straightens in one rigid jerk.

“Do you have a reason for rejecting it? At least let us talk about it. Explain to me.”

“Iwyn, I – ” he reaches for her, then retracts his hand, then takes a step towards her. “We should probably talk more private.”

At least he doesn’t deny it.

“My quarters?” she asks.

He nods, and they walk in tense silence. Iwyn is acutely aware of every inch of distance between them, of the constant pull to take his hand. When the door to her chamber closes behind her, she almost gives in, but instead she gestures to the balcony. Some things are better done under the open sky.

“You are correct,” he says.

Solas unwrap his wrists. First the one showing his soulmark, then slowly, the other. Iwyn recognizes the whorls and swirls from her own. He holds out his hand. She itches to touch it, to align it with her own. Instead, she holds up her own wrist, far enough away to resist the pull.

“What stopped you?” She asks. It is clear that he knows what the marks mean. “I like you, Solas. I enjoy spending time with you. I was under the impression you enjoyed spending time with me too.”

She does not voice all her insecurities. That she might not be good enough. That he wishes for it all to go away. That she isn’t what he’d want in a soulmate.

“Many reasons. I have been alone for – a very long time. I wasn’t sure. There are also other circumstances. For me, and for you. I would not distract you from your duty.”

“I think it’s more distraction to not know who trigged my soulmark. And you should let me decide if I can fulfill my obligations, obligations that I’ve never asked for.”

“My apologies. I was selfish of me to not let you know.”

“What do we do now, Solas. The soulmarks mean – they mean you don’t have to be alone. Not anymore. Not if you don’t want to.”

She raises her arm a little.

“I would be kinder in the long run…” he shakes his head. “But losing you would…”

He brings their wrists together, and lightning, feeling, travels up her arm, through all of her. Warm and powerful and jolting. She gasps and pulls Solas close, and they kiss, powerful, hungry. They’ve both been waiting for this for far too long.

They do not stop, and stumble inside and into her bed.

* * *

Much later, when they’re sated, naked and wrapped in each other, he turns to her. His soulmate.

“ _Vhenan_ ,” he says. He tastes the happiness of the word.

“Mmmhhmm.” She laces their fingers together, wrist touching wrist. The pleasant buzz that rush through him does something to calm his fears, to make him go on.

“I have more truths to share. About me. I supposed I should begin with the orb.”

He tells her everything, the orb, the veil, his mistakes and plans. His past and his doubts about the future.

“Okay,” she says.

He barks out a laugh. “That’s it? Just – Okay?”

She kisses his temple.

“I’ll have questions, later. Concerns. But I can feel you, Solas, _ma lath_. We will find a way.”

He knows the truth of it, and his soul is at rest.


End file.
